6

CASBIN AND HAFED.

THE Caliph Scherirah-the date of whose reign is uncertain, for chroniclers have omitted to record his name and actions in the annals of the caliphate-had two sons, Casbin, the first-born, and Hafed his brother. These princes, though they were nearly of the same age, and had been brought up together from their infancy, bore little resemblance to one another in their character and habits. The elder was just and wise, gentle and forgiving; the other ardent, generous, and impulsive, frequently hurried by the feeling of a moment into the commission of acts of which he afterwards bitterly repented, though pride as often prevented the acknowledgment of his errors. But this difference in their dispositions seemed to unite the brothers more closely than any similarity of tastes could have done; neither the favour which their haughty and tyrannic father manifested towards his younger son, in whom he recognized some traces of his own passionate and impetuous spirit, nor the love that the people expressed for the excellent Casbin, caused any jealousy between them; and as the caliph, though undisguisedly partial to his fiery Hafed, had declared that at his death the sovereign power should be shared equally between them, the time was confidently anticipated, when the valour and energy of the one prince should make their joint reign glorious abroad, while the prudence and moderation of the other would assure to their subjects prosperity and happiness, under an equitable government at home.

Scherirah had lived the appointed time of man's existence. Fourscore years had enfeebled his physical powers and dimmed his perceptions of right and wrong; but his passions were as fierce, and his will as unbending, as in the prime of manhood. Conscious of his increasing infirmities, he resolved that the last event of his life should be one of unparalleled grandeur. His love of conquest should be gratified until the death-hour; his sun should set in splendour. And so an immense armament was assembled, headed by his most famous captains, and a descent was made on the territories of a neighbouring prince, whose only offence was, that he dared to possess an independent sovereignty on the borders of the caliph's empire. The unprepared and unsuspecting king

hastily called together a handful of warriors, and with that little band of heroes made a valiant but useless defence against the multitude of invaders that poured in on every side. He was quickly overcome; his land became a province of Scherirah's almost boundless dominions; he was himself slain in battle, and his six sons were carried prisoners to Bagdad.

The heart of the kind and pitiful Casbin was grieved to see these brave young princes led through the streets, with their royal robes torn and soiled, flung in mockery over their aching shoulders, while their bare and weary feet were wounded by the stones in the way; and guarded by a company of soldiers, bearing rods, with which they smote the unfortunate youths whenever they would have paused in their painful march; and Casbin hasted to find his brother, and entreat him to intercede with the caliph in their behalf. Great was his surprise when Hafed coldly declined to interfere; and, in reply to his repeated questions as to the cause of such unlooked-for indifference, admitted that, pleased with the manly forms and noble bearing of the princes, he had asked them of his father, that he might place them in various situations about his own person.

"Then you will use them courteously?" urged Casbin. "Bethink you, they are our equals; it is not seemly that they should be so ill-treated."

"None are the equals of the sons of Scherirah, save Scherirah himself," replied Hafed, proudly. "It is honour enough for slaves, as they are, to bear my cup, to clean my armour, and to tend my horse. Say no more, my brother, or words will grow warm between us. I have saved these sons of the vanquished from a shameful death, and I will do no more; neither will our father hear you, for his word is passed to me that they are mine."

"Nay, but, Hafed, let them not be so disgraced before the people.'

"Peace, I pray thee peace, good Casbin; it is by my command that they are made a public show. This morning I did but tell the youngest to serve me on his bended knee, and the wretch refused to show that token of respect. The others would not set him an example, therefore I gave orders that they should, on three several mornings, be thrice conducted through the city, in the habits in which they were taken, as a spectacle for all passengers, and that proclamation should be thus made:-These be they who would not do the bidding of Prince Hafed!' The caliph would have had them scourged, but judged I not well that this humiliation would wound them more?"

Then did the indignation of the virtuous Casbin break forth, and he reproved his brother for having so used the princely captives, and in his anger he spoke hard things of his father's injustice and cruelty; and Hafed answered again, and so in wrath the brothers parted.

Casbin went, sorrowing, to do what he could to soothe and comfort the royal prisoners; and Hafed, chafing under reproaches which he felt that he deserved, sought the chamber of his father, who, the leeches said, was sick even unto death.

The officer that kept guard before the door of the caliph's apartment, answered Hafed's inquiry if he might enter, by saying that his lord was sleeping and might not be disturbed, so the prince, excited and impatient, waited in an outer room until he should be admitted.

With hasty steps he strode backward and forward, and often he determined to tell his dying parent what had passed, and then his resolve was shaken, as he remembered that thereby his brother would be deprived of his birthright—that generous brother, who, although as the elder the empire should be his, was willing to cede half his claims, and to yield the moiety of his inheritance to him who was at that instant planning treachery against him. Hafed would then have ALL! He alone would fill the throne, he alone would wield the sceptre of the caliphate, and his sway would be despotic. Mighty visions of pomp and power floated before him-unnumbered voices hailed him as their sovereign lord— his fame resounded throughout all lands-his name was on every tongue, and the wonder of his doings filled the world. One word might work the spell-how could he resist the temptation to give it utterance? Was it not his duty to tell his father what had been said in his dispraise? Should he be doing his brother wrong? Would not Casbin be happier living quietly in the sunshine of royal favour, and doing good to all, than he would be with the cares of state weighing on his spirit?

Seeking by these questions to silence the upbraiding voice within, Hafed threw himself on a pile of downy cushions, and clasped his hands firmly across his brow, as though to still the inward conflict that agitated him. Presently his hands were unclenched, and his features wore a look of triumph, and it seemed as though his thoughts had received their hue from the rich and dusky light that streamed in through the deep purple hangings that covered the apertures in the outer wall, for he abandoned himself to dreams of magnificence worthy of "the golden prime of Haroun Alraschid.”

How long he had indulged in this luxurious reverie he knew not, when a sharp cry of distress, followed by plaintive wailings, caught his attention. He sprang up. Whence did the sounds proceed? He could not tell. They might be the cries of an unruly slave receiving punishment at his master's hand, or of a malefactor undergoing the torture, or of a child weeping for its mother, for the voice was weak as the wind brought it faintly from the distance. What was it to him what they were? Nothing! yet he felt impelled to go forth and seek the sufferer. On he went, guided by some incomprehensible influence, until he reached the street. There he saw a venerable-looking merchant, borne along by two of those men that were appointed to collect the tribute from strangers, who, in consideration of paying a small sum annually into the royal coffers, were permitted to enjoy the privileges of citizens. This tax the poor man had neglected or was unable to pay, and in consequence of the omission, he was about to be imprisoned until such time as his house should be disposed of, when he would be driven from the town. When Hafed had learned this, he felt compassion for the alien, and promptly released him from his persecutors by satisfying their demands, and then, to protect him from the jeers and insults of the crowd, he supported him, all trembling as he was, to the little tenement which he pointed out as his home.

Hafed had, as usual, acted without thought, from a benevolent impulse; but the observations that he heard on all sides proved that the deed was appreciated, though scarcely understood, by the bystanders. "Look! there is our good young prince," said they ; "he would not see the poor oppressed, surely he will love the people well. Oh! but the stranger is a holy man, perchance a saint, a pilgrim, or a sage. This is more like what Casbin would have done. The Lord Hafed has surely been maligned; see how mild he is. Truly our prince is an excellent young prince!"

Well pleased, Hafed listened to the words. He was glad to have done a good action; perhaps he thought it might make amends for the severity of the morning-severity which he now thought had not been needful. Had the exercise of kindly feeling wrought this change in him, or had his passion spent itself, and was this the reaction? So it was; his better nature was resuming the mastery. He was sorry that he had quarrelled with his brother: he wished that he had not so resented the independent spirit of his new servitors. Surely their fearless pride should have awakened a corresponding chord of sympathy and admiration within his breast. Well,

their punishment should be remitted. He was still marvelling at the strangeness of his sentiments, when the old man opened a wicket and invited him to enter, saying, "I cannot thank you in the public way, my kind preserver.'

66

'Nay, I need no thanks," Hafed replied.

"Yet I pray my lord to honour his servant's roof, by stepping within for one short minute.' So the prince yielded. "Is it true, my lord," asked the old man, when they were both in the empty, desolate-looking house, and the door was closed; "is it true that my lord is, in truth, the son of the mighty caliph, whom Heaven preserve?"

"The Commander of the Faithful, Allah be his strength! is, indeed, my father," answered Hafed, with a smile.

The aged man bowed low, and would have knelt to kiss the hem of his visitor's robe, but the prince prevented him. "Is there nought wherein I may pleasure my lord?" he asked. "Would the prince know somewhat of the future?"

"That would I, right gladly, oh, wise man!" Hafed exclaimed. "Canst tell me what shall be when three years have passed away?"

The sage took from the folds of his turban a small mirror, curiously set round with ebony and gold. "Breathe on the surface, O prince!" he said; "and the future shall be clearly revealed to your gaze."

Hafed did so, and as the mist passed from the crystal, there seemed to be reflected thereon scenes of splendour, in all of which he took the foremost part. They were the prophetic realizations of his most glowing fancies. "Am I, indeed, to be caliph ?" he cried, eagerly. "Ha! is it really true? What is this? A procession-I ride on a white horse, with jewelled trappings; the spoils of nations are carried before me; richest stuffs are spread in my path; music plays loudly, but it is drowned by the shouts of ten thousand voices. What is it they cry? I am a conqueror-I am invincible! But Casbin is not there; why is he not ready to welcome me, and to rejoice at my success? Again, I am seated on a dazzling throne; kings render to me homage; ambassadors from distant countries come, with costly gifts, to ask my favour and protection. I sit alone. Casbin is not near. I look proud, but not happy: my bearing is not joyous but elate; methinks some secret want makes my heart ache beneath the kingly robe. Now I am standing in a beautiful garden; lights gleam through the lattices of many windows in a palace; melody is heard within, and sounds of revelry, but I heed them not. The moonbeams rest on the sleeping river, and play on the sparkling fountain; the air is heavy